


where the runaways are running the night

by braille_upon_my_skin



Series: the world we're gonna make [4]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braille_upon_my_skin/pseuds/braille_upon_my_skin
Summary: "Mrs. Barnum has always hung back, preferring to watch from the sidelines. Her interactions with the performers have been minimal, and while she has never been outwardly unpleasant or passed any judgement, Anne is uncertain of what to expect from her.But, an invitation to join someone for lunch, to enter their home, sounds very….nice."





	where the runaways are running the night

 

\---

 

Anne Wheeler emerges from her caravan, drawing her thick, knit wool shawl around her shoulders to shield herself from the wintry chill in the air. The sound of voices reaches her ears and she smirks to herself, amused, as she spies the walking scandal, himself, P.T. Barnum, strolling toward the tents with the circus's wealthy benefactor, Phillip Carlyle, trailing on his heels.

The men are, ostensibly, bickering about another one of Barnum's insane and ingenious ideas, but Barnum's collar is disheveled, his top hat sitting slightly askew on his head, and Phillip's coat is rumpled, his trousers creased, as if he had to pull them on in a hurry, this morning- a telltale that any anger between them is fleeting, at best, and feigned, at worst.

Despite Barnum and Phillip's earnest, sweetly naive belief that they've been secretive about their affair, the true nature of their _partnership_ has been apparent to their family within the circus troupe since the day that partnership was founded.

The day when the destruction of the fire at last paved the way for something stronger and brighter to rise from the ashes of what stood before.

Since giving Phillip her blessing, Anne has caught whiffs of Barnum's cologne clinging to Phillip's ringmaster's coat when she dances with him during performances, and she has to bite at her lip to conceal her smirk.

After the pair of ringleaders have departed for the night, Charles informs the company which location he caught the pair entering or exiting with suspect timing, during the day. Last night, his report was that he saw a dazed and winded Phillip making his way out from under one end of the stands, trying and failing at inconspicuously tucking his shirt back in, while Barnum strolled _too_ casually from the other end, his previously tied necktie hanging loose around his neck.

Lettie chipped in, "Honey, _please_. I've passed their office and overheard them passionately moaning each other's names."

This was followed up by playful imitations of just that by Charles and W.D., causing the rest of the group to break into peals of uproarious laughter.

Several other members of the company even wage bets on how long Barnum and "his rich pretty boy" will "disappear" for, before reappearing with flushed faces and shirt collars curiously raised around their necks.

No, Barnum and Carlyle are subtle as a carriage tipping over, in a strangely endearing sort of way. So, they are _very_ fortunate to have surrounded themselves with a family that will not and would _neve_ r shun them for brazenly defying the rules and strictures of the world outside of the safety of the circus tents.

Anne is descending the steps of her caravan to head for the tents, herself, when she hears a voice calling her name. She turns to find Barnum's wife walking toward her, waving.

The woman's cheeks and the tip of her nose are flushed pink from the cold, but her eyes are bright and brim with warmth. "Can I steal you, for a minute? I was wondering if you might like to come by for lunch," she says cordially.

The invitation takes Anne by surprise. She isn't used to being invited places, and especially not to someone- someone above her _station_ -'s home "for lunch". "Oh, Mrs. Barnum, I--" 

"'Charity' is just fine, dear."

Anne's heart skips a beat. She regards the woman, dressed simply, a sharp contrast to her husband's often decadent, purposely attention-grabbing attire, with a wary flicker of optimism pulsing within her. Despite P.T. Barnum's very hands on involvement with the show, Mrs. Barnum has always hung back, preferring to watch from the sidelines. Her interactions with the performers have been minimal, and while she has never been outwardly unpleasant or passed any judgement, Anne is uncertain of what to expect from her.

But, an invitation to join someone for lunch, to enter their _home,_ sounds very…. _nice_.

"The girls are at school," Mrs. Barnum says, "and with Phineas away, tending to business, the house can get pretty lonely."

"So… you want _my_ company?" Anne ventures. She holds her head up high, a defensive measure that she falls back on instinctively. She has learned that she can convince herself that the scorn, jeers, and rejection aren't hurting her if she can maintain a proud, unfaltering appearance.

"Why not?" Mrs. Barnum asks with a smile almost as brilliant as her husband's, but softer, less wayward. "You're a lovely and fearless young woman, and I'm sure you can regale me with wonderful stories about what the world looks like when you're hanging upside down, twenty feet in the air."

Lovely. Fearless.

Even Phillip, in his attempts to woo her, never used those terms. Anne doesn't believe that anyone ever has when addressing her.

She lets a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth, and takes the final step down.

 

.x.

 

They use a carriage to travel to the Barnums' home; a sprawling estate a twenty minute ride away.

Mrs. Barnum, _Charity_ , as she keeps reminding Anne to call her, does not flinch under even the most scathing and bewildered of stares they receive while boarding the carriage. Anne supposes that years of marriage to an eccentric man such as Mr. Barnum have seasoned Charity, strengthened her to the point that the opinions of others matter very little.

And, Anne envies and admires her for this.

Over the clopping of the horses' hooves and the jostling of the coach, Charity shares charming stories about her childhood; days spent eagerly awaiting every letter Mr. Barnum sent her while she weathered a dreary stay at a boarding school. Reading descriptions of his fantastical visions of the future they would share kept her going, even when she was the subject of mockery among her classmates. She, too, was an outcast that didn't fit the role carved out for her in society.

Unlike the rest of the upper class girls who reveled in their lives of endless luxury and privilege, far above the rest of the world, Charity Hallet dreamed of simple things; a quiet life built on a foundation of love. Of creating a world where one's origins were inconsequential.

Anne smiles- faint, timorous. "A quiet, simple life in a world like that has its appeal," she says quietly.

"I'm glad you agree. Now, if only we could convince Phineas." Charity's eyes glimmer mischievously, a hint of a smirk on her lips as she leans into Anne, comfortable enough around her to make benevolent jokes at her husband's expense.

Anne allows herself to laugh.

 

.x.

 

Lunch is a ham and navy bean soup with a side of bread and tea. It is a simple meal, but it warms Anne right up.

"So, Anne," Charity says, taking the seat across from her after she has collected the dishes and set them aside to be washed. "What is it like, hanging upside down, suspended so many feet above the ground? It seems it would be quite scary."

"Well, Mrs. Bar--" Charity tilts her head, her gaze gentle, but amused, and Anne quickly amends, " _Charity_. My brother and I have been practicing for years, and we trust each other completely. We know that one of us will always be there to catch the other. So, there really is nothing to be afraid of."

"It certainly is a spectacle. My husband is very lucky the two of you signed on."

Lucky. Someone has been deemed _lucky_ to have Anne and W.D. Wheeler- cast outs spurned by the world around them for the color of their skin- perform for them.

"Thank you, ma'am." Anne swallows, her throat constricting with a strange, unfamiliar emotion.

"No, thank _you_ , dear." Charity's eyes, a soft brown, shine as she goes on, "Phineas's aspirations are wild and ambitious, often highly impractical, and sometimes unrealistic. He seems to set himself up for disappointment. But, you helped him make one of those dreams come true without straying too far from his home and his family. You and the rest of the lovely people in the show, including Mr. Carlyle. I'm grateful to and _for_ every one of you."

"You… You are?" This is much different than the polite but tense meal Anne was expecting.

Charity's smile is kind. "If there's ever something you need, let me know. All of you are part of our family, and family looks out for each other."

Anne's heart is in her throat. It feels two sizes too big, and her eyes swim with unanticipated tears. No part of her could have predicted this, and a mixture of gratitude and happiness swim within her, rising like an overflowing dam. "Th-Thank you," she gets out tightly, dipping her head in an effort to hide her tears.

Charity reaches across the table, but stops short of Anne's hand, as if recognizing her desire to leave her tears unacknowledged, and wanting to respect it. "There's really no need to thank me."

But, Anne does, and she thanks Mr. Barnum and Phillip and everyone else in their unusual, atypical, perfectly peculiar family.

 

.x.

 

Charity steps out of the carriage when it pulls up, several yards away from the docks. She turns and offers a hand to Anne, who takes it with a small, gracious smile, clutching tight to the parcel tucked safe against her chest. It's a flat, rectangular pink box, containing a dress folded delicately and packaged neatly, gifted to her by Charity from the woman's own closet.

Anne's stomach flutters as she thinks of showing it off to W.D., and Lettie, and to Phillip, who reserved two tickets and balcony seats for a production of _Romeo and Juliet_ \- an honest effort in the name of rectifying the failure of his last attempt at taking her to the theater.

She turns to Charity and prepares herself to say something, but is swiftly cut off by Mr. Barnum approaching and letting out a hearty, jovial laugh as he sweeps his wife into a one-armed embrace and kisses her softly.

"Sweetheart," he greets her. His eyes flicker over her, his smile unwavering even as confusion fills his gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I was escorting this lovely young woman back to the tents," Charity says with a glance at Anne. "I hope you didn't mind me stealing one of your performers away."  Her tone is teasing, amiable, and Mr. Barnum seems unable to drum up even minor annoyance at her, though Anne knows that she was, indeed, missed.

"Anne! There you are." Phillip bustles to Anne's side, looking harried, as if in testament to her absence having been not only _felt_ , but quite likely the cause of stress for at least one of the pair of ringmasters. "W.D. was searching all over for you. He wants to rehearse your act, and…" Phillip pauses mid-sentence, his eyes flickering down to the parcel in Anne's arms. "What's that?"

"I'll tell you later," Anne says with a purposefully coy smile. She looks to Charity, and the woman smiles back at her without any hesitation.

"Anne, dear, I'd love to meet up with you again. How does next week sound?" 

After the insight she's received, knowing that she has found a kindred spirit even outside of the circus, another member to add to her family, Anne returns the smile at full luminosity. "I'd love that."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> With tomorrow being Valentine's Day, I plan to post the installment that several of you guys have been clamoring for, in the comments. Until then, I hope you didn't mind this minor divergence from the Phineas & Phillip-centric bulk of this series.


End file.
